Today marks five months and fifteen days since the day Hunter turned himself to the police.Four months from the point when Jon Maxwell received his sentence, and that Hunter was tried and convicted of association with trafficking. The calculations confuse me sometimes, I have used them to maintain self-control, although the last fifteen days have been the easiest to bear: it was the days that preceded a very small victory over Hunter's case, but indescribably tasty.New witnesses, new evidence, the increasing number of demonstrations, and the prosecution's appeal for Hunter's case to be reviewed, ended up taking us back to the hearings that determined his arrest. This time, I was able to attend his trial, without fear that my presence could break the victim mask I was wearing for all this period.I knew, since Jon Maxwell's arrest, that I was stepping on brittle ice. That any misstep would only give more fuel to the lies that have involved our names in recent months. Reason why I cou

We are in front of one of the cemeteries where unidentified people are buried. Hunter's uncle brought us here this morning, with the intention that I thought was a way to get closer to the family ties they lost over thirty years. It is the worst day anyone could have chosen to visit a cemetery without gates or any privacy, in an open field with a lot of dust and dead trees around.Path hand in hand with Hunter, while his uncle makes his way on the ground and talks about having visited each of the nameless tombs over the years so that he could bring peace even to those who have never had a family to cry about in their graves.It's a windy and terribly humid day, like the prelude to a storm.It's autumn, we are about to enter winter, and even the sun is misleading at this time of year. I'm wearing a scarf and above all, my body temperature has dropped faster than usual, and I'm always thinking of a way to protect my babies at all costs; even if the evil to be fought are the strong winds

"It's great to have all of you here tonight," I say when I raise a glass of juice. "It's not a Thanksgiving day, but it's a meeting with the most important people in my life, and the last time I'll see you for a while.”My pregnancy will not reach the thirty-seventh week, like the pregnancy of a single baby, and that is why I had the choice to prepare for hospitalization in the maternity hospital with almost eight months of gestation. Recognizing this left me panicked at first, but I already knew that I could not rule out a cesarean section since my exams became more frequent each new month.The babies are big and heavy, my stress "no matter how small it has been in recent weeks" has increased the chances of a premature birth, and my anxiety has not helped in much to ensure my rest. I'm leaving tonight for the maternity hospital, and I chose to have a dinner with friends and family members "the only family that really matters" so that they can give all the positive vibes I need for th

No one dares to even give a peep while watching, stunned, the long and intense kiss that Mikaela steals from Penelope.Not even Colton, whose act is limited only to taking a step back, looking away and leaving. He takes the glass of some drink in his hand in a hurry to go out the door, without caring about the looks that move to accompany him. I can't see her face, because he passes through the door with his head down, but the strength with which he hits her says a lot about what Penelope's inertia before the kiss may have meant to him.Penelope, however, is the first to recover from the shock, and what she does next almost allows us all to hear Mikaela's heart breaking.She is reluctant for a second, but ends up pushing Mikaela away, pushing her with a touch of delicacy on her shoulder, just before looking for Colton. When she realizes that he is not, Penelope curses some profanity and passes by Mikaela as if she were just a stone on the way. In a single second of impetus, my friend

TWO MONTHS LATER“Something tells me that there are two very hungry people, Suzy... "sing Gabby when she appears through the door with two dormant packets in her arms.Gabby invades the office of my apartment without worrying about the cardboard boxes that guard my future move, and that lined up in the four corners of the walls, smiling openly even with the uncomfortable crying of two children at the same time. They are wrapped in wraps of the same color, because I didn't want to prematurely define the color my children should use "like blue for Adam and pink for Eylem; both are in red.I ask Gabby about Hunter's whereabouts, in which she gestures with her shoulders, going around the table so I can carry the babies. She says that my husband may be in the bath, or in the room he has been using as a studio for his photos, or simply resting. She cheerfully nods to Colton and Penelope sitting in front of me, both with expressions of pure charm when seeing the babies.Penelope sighs passio